A Gypsy's Prayer
by Princess Angel Rose
Summary: Dean made a promise, but he doesn't know how to pray, or if God would even listen to him. He's a gypsy of sorts, and maybe God couldn't hear. But for once, he'd have faith. Layla's faith.


**Disclaimer: Do not own supernatural, Jensen Ackles, or Jared Padellecki. I wish I did. Kelly and I have decided that Kelly Winchester and Kari Winchester are not bad sounding names. I also don't own the song "God Bless the Outcasts." I believe that's Disney.**

"_I don't know if you can hear me. Or if you're even there. And I don't know if you'd listen…to a gypsy's prayer."_

Now was as good a time as any. He had made a promise, and his mother had raised him to keep his word. He just didn't know how to go about doing so. Sam was waiting in the car and he was still talking to the theology professor at the private college they'd asked for help, so he asked, with an attempt at casual, what he was supposed to do to pray.

It wasn't something he'd even been taught by his dad. He knew what counter spells to say to ward off demons and how to read prayers in Latin, Hebrew, and any other language that may be intimidating to almost any supernatural being, but of making his own requests known to the Lord, he knew nothing.

Luckily, the professor didn't make a big deal of it. He just answered, no fuss or disbelief in his words, tone, or eyes.

"Some people would tell you that it has to be at an alter, or with rosary beads or something, but my opinion is this: you can pray at any time, eyes opened or closed, about anything, anywhere. Just…tell him what you're thinking about."

Dean nodded, and turned to go. With a sudden idea, he stopped and looked back. If an exorcism was more powerful with two people reading the text, maybe prayer worked the same way.

"Can I ask for a favor, too?" A nod was his cue to continue. "Her name is Layla, and…she needs a miracle."

"I'll pray for her too," he assured softly, and Dean finally left.

Later that night, it had gotten dark before Dean decided to try it out. Promising Sam that he was fine, that he just wanted some air, and that he would be back soon, he left the hotel room, walking to a deserted bench before sitting. He unconsciously spread out his knees and leaned over, hunching his back. He folded his hands with his elbows on his knees and leaned over, hunching his back. He folded his hands, with his elbows on his knees, closing his eyes so they weren't looking at the ground as he faced that direction.

"God," he started. "I don't know if you even know who I am. I haven't prayed since mom died, and before that it was just a little kid's bedtime prayer, nothing really…intimate. But, it's Dean. Mom should be up there by now. She'll know me.

"I know I do a lot of things that I probably shouldn't. I don't deserve for some 'Higher Being' to talk to me. But this isn't about me. It's about Layla."

He sighed, recalling her grace, her innocence, and her faith. "What happened to me, somebody else's life for mine, it was wrong. But you gotta forgive Sammy and me. We didn't know. Layla should have been healed, not me. She deserves life more than I do.

"God, heal her, please. And, help me take care of Sammy too, while you're at it. Mom'll vouch for me: I try."

It was the only thing he had believed growing up, besides the things he hunted. If there was a Heaven, then he knew his mom was there.

Instead of going directly back to the hotel, he walked through the nearby woods. Sam was gonna kill him, when he got back for going into a forest at night, alone and unarmed.

Walks always cleared his head, and that's what he needed then. With all the horror he'd seen, both supernatural and manmade, it was hard for him to believe there was a God. But with Layla's faith, it was hard but not to believe. And what she had said. That you have to have faith during the miracles, and when they don't.

He closed his eyes and sent one last plead to the Man Upstairs. She deserved so much more than death, so much longer than six months. God had to have listened, right? Maybe he wasn't good enough, but she was.

For once, he decided, he would have faith. Layla's faith. It was the faith that he had heard and he had listened. And that Layla, if nothing else, would go home gently. But he was still praying for a miracle.


End file.
